Out of Control
by HeartsOfTheBeasts
Summary: Marshall does something that leaves Mary reeling. Is he going to be able to pick back up the pieces if he is the one that caused them?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Please do not expect an update more than once a week. Unlike when I first started writing, I can not access a computer more than once a week due to my house burning down. Tuesdays are the only day's I am able to use a computer, so I will try my hardest to give you an update every Tuesday. Reviews give me inspiration for further chapters, so please pile them up! Warning this is VERY explicit in my opinion. If you do not have something nice to say in your review, do not flame. You may post it if you are at least polite. Thank you very much._

It had been an abnormally long day. Marshall was no where to be seen, though a call from him earlier this morning placed him at his house apparently sick. Here I was thinking he didn't get sick. Because the bastard decided to take a sick day on a day when a mountain load of paperwork came in, I had been stuck inside working on the said paperwork all day, my only amusement being the occasional wandering spitball that always somehow landed on Eleanor's chest. However, the bigger puzzle was that she didn't notice until Stan pointed them out to her, with a stern look in my direction. I, however, have no clue where they came from. I had been busy signing paperwork with my pen with a spitball straw attached. No clue whatsoever.

My first stop after leaving the office was my place. I needed my overnight bag so I would be able to take care of Marshall. It was the thing we did. I'd take care of him, he would take care of me. I would never tell anyone, but the main reason I didn't mind taking care of him was because, after all, I needed to be positive he wouldn't leave me, even though I know damn well he won't back out on a promise.

I pulled up to his house. It was actually quite nice in a neighborhood like this. The majority of the homes were the same old boring trailers, but Marshall's was so different. First off, his house wasn't a trailer. It was a small home and to the normal passerby, his yard was littered with a bunch of crap. I believed it was a bunch of crap but I also believed that it was uniquely designed by said man. He always changed something everyday, just like the damn Simpsons as they change at least one thing in the theme song each episode. When we lived back in New Jersey, it was Brandi's and my favorite pastime guessing what was changed.

I skillfully weaved through the crap, easily noticing the spear lying next to a haystack that hadn't been there the day before. Upon reaching the door, I knocked and let myself in. He had been distant for the past few days and him now being sick would explain that. I grew confused though when I didn't see him on the couch. He must be pretty sick or getting something to eat. I set my stuff down next to the couch and made my way to the kitchen. I popped my head in, but he wasn't there.

"Marshall?" I called out. His car was definitely outside, so he was here, but where?

His head popped out from the bedroom door, "Hello, Mary."

"So what's ailing you today, Mister?" I joked as I walked down the hallway towards him. I stopped suddenly when I got within a yard from him. There was a fire in his eyes, more specifically, two separate fires burning together. A deadly combination I have never seen before. Anger and lust. It shocked me visibly, mentally, and emotionally. What the fuck was going on?

"Marshall?" I asked cautiously.

He shivered and moved closer to me. I backed up, only to hit the wall. Something was up, and I'm not just talking about what was in his pants. I'm talking something is wrong. Definitely wrong.

Before I could react, my wrists were pinned under his, his body grating against me. He shifted my wrists so they were over my head and he could hold them in one hand. He used his now free hand to take a hold of my hair. I couldn't move. I was completely trapped. Oh god, what the hell was he doing?

"Marshall, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. My voice sounded so weak and pitiful.

His mouth came slowly towards my ear, kissing the spot just before it before whispering softly, "Showing you just what you do to me on a daily, hourly, minutely, and secondly basis."

His lips crushed mine, making it impossible to speak, not that I could anyway. This was the guy I had only just begun to realize I loved. This was not the way I would have thought he would have expressed it. This was wrong! Something is wrong with him to be acting this way. I struggled against him to the best of my ability, but it only angered him.

"No, no Mary," Marshall sneered. "You've pushed me for too long. This is my turn."

Oh shit. This was turning worse. His hand that had been in my hair fell down to my shirt, which had unfortunately been a button up shirt. He swiftly, skillfully undid the buttons with his one hand and proceeded in unhooking my bra in the same manner. I shivered in fear. This was damn near that same fucking night in that hellhole of a basement, and now I'm living a new nightmare. A nightmare in which Marshall has turned into that fucking raping monster.

His hands groped my breasts, twisting, squeezing, never stopping, despite my protests. God he was never stopping.

The tears. God, the tears were falling down my face so hard. Where was the Marshall that would comfort me? Where was the Marshall that would tell me it was okay and that he would never leave? His hand went back into my hair, presumably to stop me from headbutting him while he did something else. I closed my eyes as his head lowered to suck one of the breasts. I hissed in pain as he bit down particularly hard. His hand squeezed my hair more roughly, silently telling me to be quiet.

I wanted to wake up. This had to be a horrific nightmare. Tell me I'm sleeping, that I'm dreaming. Please, please, please.

I was so far into the back of my mind trying to forget this was happening, that I didn't realize that I was on Marshall's bed. My hands were still tied, but this time with zip ties. My shirt and bra were completely off now, and his hands were pulling my pants and panties down, as the button and the zipper were already dealt with. I watched in horror when they finally gave way to his tugging and enabled him access to what had been hidden to him. I tried to hide from him, but he was quick, as he grasped both of my legs and forced them open. His pants were already gone. He forced himself into me, and I screamed in agony as the flesh barely allowed him through. After that first plunge, he was slow for a minute. My scream quickly turned into whimpers. My eyes closed again. My own best friend, my only best friend, was raping me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

He began to thrust harder and harder, his breathing matching heavily.

"Mare," his voice growled his pet name for me. "Open your eyes. I want you to say my name."

I opened them and screamed as one of his hands twisted my nipple.

"Say my name" he growled again as another but softer twist threatened another hard one.

I swallowed and whispered softly, "Marshall."

"I can't hear you." He twisted.

"Marshall!" I screamed again in agony. I wanted this to stop. I needed this to stop.

Apparently, him hearing me say his name spurred him on, thrusting him harder and harder inside of me. It wouldn't be much longer, I told myself. This would finally be over soon. He gasped as he finally came, landing heavily on me as the last thrusts ended.

"I fucking love you Mary Shannon. I hope you know that."

I couldn't stop the tears that followed.

_A/N: I promise there is an explanation for this, and will come soon. Next update comes next tuesday!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you Kathiann, Freaya, Caia, Sfchemist, and Kay8abc for your reviews. The chapter seemed to keep coming all week long, so I hope you will enjoy this longer chapter. I promise you will all get your explanation! (And thank you Caia for your concern, but everyone is fine, no injuries, and as much as it sucks, my house was the only one of the three that was lived in thankfully.)_

I heard his soft snores coming from beside me. He had been asleep for about thirty minutes now, but I couldn't be too sure. His head was turned away from me, so I finally decided it was time to get away. I pulled my arms down, wincing as they were stretched from the position they had been held at for so long. I started chewing on the zip tie the second it was within reach of my mouth. It took a few minutes, but I was able to take the restraints off of my wrists. Now, however, came the hardest part. If he is in witness protection sleep mode, I'm screwed. If he's in dead sleep mode, I can probably make it out of the room. I chose to quickly roll off the bed, which is the most quiet method, but I didn't expect my weakness to kick in, so I landed on the floor with a hard and loud thump.

I heard movement on the bed followed by Marshall's groggy voice, "Mary?"

I silently cursed. Marshall was getting up. I had to think of something fast. I noticed a cord in front of me that led up to a small lamp up on the nightstand. I wished desperately that this didn't need to be done, but it was perfect. I got on my knees, yanked the cord, grabbed the lamp and smacked his head as it popped over the side of the bed. I sighed in relief as his head fell back down, unconscious.

I slowly got up, making sure I was steady on my feet, before hurrying out of the room with one last glance at my partner. My overnight bag was still where I put it, and my phone lay on top of it, screen flashing showing several missed calls, but right that second I didn't care about that. I brushed it off and dug around inside the bag for my handcuffs. When my hands gripped onto the smooth, cold surface, comfort filled me, much like when I had grabbed my gun in the basement. A familiar, comfortable, and powerful object of my life was in my hands it was my calm in the storm if you will. I grabbed them and my phone and ran back to Marshall's room.

Marshall was still unconscious so I grabbed one of his hands and handcuffed him to the metal poles on the bottom of the bed. I pulled out my phone and hit the center button to see who had called. Mom, Mom, Brandi, a witness, and about twenty calls from Stan, and the last one was two minutes ago. He would probably be calling here any second now again. I dialed a number, and while in any other occasion, it would have been Stan, this time it was someone else. As the familiar voice filled my head, I slid to the ground in the hallway.

"Bobby? I need your help," I started shakily. "I'm at Marshall's house."

"Sure, I'll be right over," he answered, obviously picking up on the severity of the situation by my voice. "What happened?"

"Not over the phone. Please, come now!" God, I don't beg and here I am fucking begging. Why can't I stop falling apart? Just as I hung up the phone, it rang again. I glanced to the small screen and saw Stan's name pop up. I knew I should answer it; he's probably already called out a search party. Barely a second after my phone stopped ringing, I could hear Marshall's cellphone start ringing from the bedroom. It stopped though, before the six rings were up. I tensed. Was Marshall awake again? Minutes past. Everything was silent.

Footsteps. I couldn't tell where they were coming from, as they seemed to echo throughout the entire house. My head fell to my knees, hands covered my ears. Marshall couldn't get to me like this.

"Jesus Mary!" A gruff, shocked voice exclaimed. Not Marshall, was my first thought. Relief flowed through me as I looked up and saw Bobby coming towards me with a blanket. I realized that I was still naked, but in the position I was currently in, he couldn't see anything, so I just wrapped the blanket closer around my body.

"Where's Marshall?" he asked softly. I pointed into the bedroom. He took a few steps forward and stopped dead at the sight that he saw in there. "What the hell?!" He turned back toward me, a look of anger covering every inch of him. "You guys finally have sex and you decide to make a game out of it! Well I don't want any part of it!"

He turned to walk back out the door, but my voice stopped him as he tried to comprehend what I said, "He raped me, Bobby."

He came back to me, a look of disbelief on his face, and knelt next to me, "Tell me you said something else. Marshall isn't like that."

"You think I don't know that?" I yelled in anguish, and stopped there to hide the emotion before Bobby could read it. "He's been my partner for five years now. Something is wrong with him, and I'm talking about with that geek filled head of his."

The front door suddenly slammed open, causing both Bobby and me to jump and Bobby to whip out his gun. We relaxed though when we saw Stan's pissed form coming through the door.

"How freaking hard is it to answer a god damn phone call around here, for crying out loud!" He did a double take when he realized what state I was in. "Jesus, Mary. You're bleeding."

The only part of my body not covered by the blanket was my head, so I reached up to feel the back of my head. Pain seared through my head from a gash and my hair was matted with blood. I no longer could hear Bobby and Stan who were undoubtedly calling for an ambulance. In less than 5 hours Marshall had inflicted pain on me both physically and emotionally. I could see him in the corner of my eye. Does he know how much he has hurt me? Does it hurt him having hurt me? Will it hurt him? What if he did this just to hurt me?

Oh my God.

* * *

"Well Miss Shannon, you're all patched up. You'll be better than new faster than you think," her doctor, Pat something, grinned. "You'll need to stay overnight for observation but I think you'll be fine to go home in the morning."

I nodded as a knock on the door came. A man came through, introducing himself as Marshall's doctor.

"Has he hit his head as recently as the past week?" he asked.

"Yeah," I started as the memories flooded back.

_Earlier that week_

We dodged away from the gunfire by hiding behind a vehicle. Natasha Dew had done a big no no with the main rule of Witsec and called her boyfriend, who then ratted her out by calling the guys that wanted to kill her. We were trying to move Natasha before these guys killed her, and well, it wasn't an easy job. Now that we were in cover, I grabbed my gun from my waist and poked my head under the car. Three pairs of legs grew closer, guns silent. I glanced at Marshall. He nodded, and joined my side now laying on the ground. I took aim and fired, successfully hitting one of them in the legs. Marshall got another one, and we both managed to hit the last one at the same time in separate legs.

"Natasha, stay right here," I whispered fiercely. She nodded her head in understanding, and both me and Marshall got up and made our way to the men. All three were on the ground, grabbing their leg, legs in the last one's case, and the other and trying to grab their gun. Before they could get their hands on their guns, we both held our guns on them

One of them was tall, like Marshall. Without any warning, he swung his uninjured leg out, connecting with Marshall's legs, sending him falling face first, into the front bumper of the car we were just hiding behind. I shot the man in the nuts and he screamed in agony. I gave a warning glance to the other men, silently threatening them that I would do the same to them if they tried anything.

"Marshall, are you okay?" I asked, turning my groaning partner over.

"I'm fine," his hand covered his forehead. "I'm sure it'll bruise though."

"Get up, numbnuts," I chuckled, holding my hand out for him.

He grinned, despite the pain, and took my hand. "Now how about we finish these losers off?"

"Sounds like fun," I laughed. All of the men, with exception to Marshall, looked warily at my gun.

* * *

"We went to the hospital after it happened, but they didn't see anything wrong with him then," I told the doctor.

His doctor nodded. "He has swelling in the frontal region of the brain. If the doctors didn't see anything during their examination, it was probably because it took about a day or two for the swelling to become noticeable. It should disappear by the end of the week."

"So what does this swelling mean?" I asked.

"Well as I've stated before, the swelling is in the frontal region of the brain. In the frontal region is the personality center. What this does is in most cases, causes vicious headaches, and causes changes in behavior, mostly worse behavior such as anger if the person is bothered by the headaches. The personality changes and the headaches should go away with the swelling."

I lapsed into silence, and the doctor took this moment as a cue to leave. Pat followed him after she told me to stay in bed. I had noticed the irritability throughout the week, but I never thought much about it. Was this swelling the cause of my rape? Would Marshall have done this sometime in the future even without the swelling? Does the swelling change the fact that I could probably never look at Marshall the same way again?

So many questions, I sighed.

_A/N: Ah yes, so many questions. I always wanted to shoot a guy in the nuts just to see what would happen (sorry boys), but unfortunately, unless I become a law enforcement officer in the future, it probably will never happen, and it will just have to stick to my stories. Boo._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you Freaya, Kathiann, Caia, BuJyo, Jazzyjenn5, Sfchemist, Roar526, Kay8abc, and KittyKnighton for your reviews! I've managed to complete two chapters this week, but as it is Thanksgiving weekend, I'm not sure I can complete another chapter over the weekend. I would rather you get a chapter every week instead of a double update and a two week long wait. If I do manage to complete another chapter over the Thanksgiving weekend, I will give you a double update next week! (I'm hosting the Thanksgiving dinner this year, so I'm extremely busy trying to fix up my badly rundown trailer as my new home and make sure I got everything to make the dinner!) Anyway, I hope you like this update, and if you can, tell me if you think I'm keeping Mary in character, even though it's difficult telling what her character is like after something like this had happened._

Mary's PoV

I walked up the pathway, a bouquet of flowers in hand. No, I'm not getting married. I was walking up the pathway in a cemetery. Every time someone I know dies, whether that be a witness, a witness's friend, or other people I may know, I come to the cemetery, with one flower for each of them and an extra one for the newcomer. For the first time, I have the same number of flowers that I did the last time I came, and I did this because I honestly don't know if the person that died is actually here.

I walked the familiar maze of gravestones, laying flowers as I go, and I don't just lay the flowers on those that I liked, I also lay them on graves of those people whose guts I hated. I remember fond memories, and sad memories, and memories that make me curl my fists in anger. It's so much harder this time than every other time I've come to the cemetery. For one, Marshall isn't with me this time, and second of all, Marshall is in most of these memories.

I came across Frankie Jr's grave. A small smile came to my lips as I read the last word of the inscription on his grave: 'Nuts'. I remember that Felicia had trouble putting that on the gravestone, but Jr was part of his father, and his father deserved to have a word in, and during their last communication, they came to an uneasy agreement that this word be placed at the bottom. Next to Jr's grave was the girl that was going to take his virginity, Sienna Burke. I laid flowers on both of their graves before moving on.

I actually did start laughing when I came across Don Ferguson's grave, or I should say 'fake' grave, as he wasn't actually dead. Ruth still mourns for Don, but has moved on. She hasn't married Peter, I suspect because she doesn't want what happen in between her and Don to happen again, but they are happily together, still helping out at the shelter.

I continued on to Steven Ramirez, the cop killed by his wife because he was gay, Lily Atkins and her husband O.D., and finally Norman Danzer. I stopped for several minutes at his grave. This was probably the most heartbreaking witness that has ever come through the ABQ WITSEC office. While he was Marshall's witness, we were equally distraught after his death. Marshall saved my life that day, as he had done several times throughout my miserable life, pulling me off that bridge before it exploded. It showed how much he was a good friend to me. Knowing this, however, made my current situation seem so much worse, so much more damaging. Shakily, I got up. I had one more grave to visit, and I'm not so sure I want to visit this grave, if it was here.

I looked closely at the graves in a unfamiliar area. I had been told that this was the area to go to. I collapsed to my knees the second I made it to the freshly dug patch of earth that held the person I was looking for. The letter had arrived that very morning, written by the very man himself telling me he was dead, and answering every question I've ever had. He knew I had the ability to find him, but answered my questions in that letter in case I never got to see him again before he died.

"Hi, Daddy," I whispered softly. "You've said that you've always kept an eye on us, and know what has happened throughout my life, but you've missed some things Daddy..."

Marshall's PoV

It's hard to describe how I feel. It's like when you do something bad and you don't feel guilt while doing it, and then feel immensely guilty about it later, but the guilt isn't because you got caught. It's somewhat like that, but tenfold. I had no morals, no conscious to tell me what I was doing was wrong. The restraint I had spent several years perfecting had been thrown out the window in a moment where my mind wasn't clear, but perfectly clear, perhaps confused, but not confused. As I said, it's hard to describe.

I clearly remember all of the times my witnesses and Mary's have hit on her. There was the anger, the jealousy, the knowing that ultimately what I do or say will not change the outcome. If Mary slept with them, it was hopefully her decision. If she didn't sleep with them, I still had absolutely nothing to do from stopping witnesses from sleeping with her.

I've treated Mary like an exotic animal during all of the time we have worked together. I have always done what she wanted me to do, just so she could stay in my life. I had always hope that someday she would see how much I care for her. However, last week, I had broken the number one rule when it comes to taking care of an exotic animal: you must not scare or harm the animal at any cost. I've broken it, and she will most likely disappear, and will probably be for forever.

I took one step inside my house, my home. Mary's overnight bag was behind the couch where she normally puts it. My mood picked up for a millisecond hoping that she was here and it would be easier to get the exotic animal back, but I realized almost immediately that it probably never left my house from the week before. I placed my keys on the kitchen counter before checking the house. I stopped at the hallway when I had difficultly breathing. My memories of that night are crystal clear. I could see her backing as I advanced, the fear only showed in her eyes because she is so strong and almost never shows her feelings. She had no clue what my intentions were until I reached her. I saw the dent in the wall and a bit of blood on the picture there where I had knocked her head back when she bit my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to get me to stop. There was more blood closer to the floor, but this I had no clue where it came from.

I took a few steps forward to see the bedroom. There was more blood on the pillows and sheets. I closed my eyes to hide from the horror, only to see Mary's tortured gaze. I'm destined to be tortured by this singular event for the rest of my life, I decided. The bedsheets would never lose the blood stains, and the memories would always haunt this room. The only time I've gotten any sleep this past week was through a sedative which never gets me much rest. I could never sleep in this house again, if I ever sleep again. My stomach turns at every glance throughout the house, remembering the times when Mary stayed here in a good mood, upset, and that night, and all of it was torture. Every second of it.

I deserve it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, Heart's friend here. I'm the girl who lets her borrow my computer so she can give you all what she's written for the week. We both are so sorry for the wait for this chapter. She came to my house Tuesday (it's a three hundred mile drive, so that is why she only updates once a week), and she got really, really sick. She kept running back and forth throughout my house to the bathroom before she could really get settled in front of the computer (We blame the the leftover pumpkin pie her family left for her, all her family who had it got sick, and she forgot to throw it out before she had another piece). She left late that night after she was feeling well enough to drive, and she forgot her notebook, resulting in her calling me yesterday morning, realizing that she didn't get you a chapter, and that she left her notebook here with this chapter in there. I, being the best friend I am, typed this up for everyone of you and for her yesterday. The only reason you didn't get this chapter yesterday was because my internet went down. You should have seen her face though when I told her what each of you wrote in your reviews. I think she was five times happier than a child with a hundred dollars in a candy shop, even with the puking, and seeing her reaction made my day, so thank you, from both her and me, for your reviews. Next chapter should arrive on time next time!**

Mary's PoV

The house was silent when I got home, and I suspected that everyone was asleep. It was three in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. I, however, was quickly losing my sanity. I was severely sleep deprived, but the thing was, I couldn't fall asleep. Laying in the bed with Raph was just too weird, and sex right now was not happening. It was way too soon. Raph didn't understand why I didn't want to have sex, mainly because I didn't tell him. I could see exactly what he would do if I told him. For one, Marshall would be the next person I visit in that cemetery, and then we would get in another useless fight about my job.

If this event didn't happen and I was sleepless, the easy solution would be Marshall's. His scent used to always calm me, made me know that nothing would bother me. When I was at Marshall's house, it would be the only time I would have my phone turned off. I didn't have to deal with calls from Raph, Brandi, or Mom. Witnesses and Stan would know to call Marshall if my phone was turned off. I didn't have to deal with anyone's problems and that gave me time to solve my own, with or without Marshall's help. I couldn't go to Marshall's now because he would be there, and I honestly don't know if his scent would calm me down anymore.

I went through the daily ritual before bed, showering, putting some lotion on my face and hands, putting pajamas on, and brushing my teeth, but needing to support myself the whole time. While I had known that being weak like this was bad for me, but when I was brushing my teeth, I noticed that it was so much more than my weakness. My face was sunken with a grayish tint, and the bags under my eyes were enormous. My eyelids were heavy, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I kept my eyes closed all night long. Worse yet, if I wasn't skin and bones before, I certainly am now. I sighed, spit out the toothpaste and backed out of the bathroom. I changed back into everyday clothes and grabbed my car keys.

I knew driving in my condition was extremely dangerous, but I couldn't very well walk to where I was going. I needed my sleep and everywhere else I could think of brought me sleepless nights. I had one place left to try before I was forced to sleep with medication.

I forced my mind to concentrate on the road during the ten minute drive, no matter how difficult it was. I managed to pull into the usual parking space without wrecking the car, and I looked up at my home away from home. It had been damn near a week since I saw this building. Near two weeks since the rape. When I had shown up last week, Stan took one good look at me and turned me around and told me to go sleep. The first week I just plain refused to sleep because I knew I would have nightmares. Now, I can't go to sleep no matter how much I want to.

I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. I was shocked when the lights were on when the elevator doors opened. Someone was still here. I looked around the office before sliding my card in the reader, and sighed when I saw Eleanor just about asleep staring at her computer. I put my card in the reader and opened the door. Eleanor jerked up when she heard the door open.

"Mary? What time is it?" she asked as she rubbed her eyes.

"Three thirty," I replied hoarsely.

She grumbled and gathered her things. When she stood, she looked at me and shook her head, "There's no way you'll be able to sleep here, and I think you know that. It's probably forty degrees outside and Stan will be here in three hours!" She grabbed my arm and started tugging me back towards the elevator. "You're going to come with me."

I couldn't argue. For one, I was too tired. And two, I've never been to Eleanor's place, and as far as I know Marshall hadn't either, so there would be nothing that should stop me from not getting sleep. As she dragged me out the door towards her car, I wore a small smile as I saw the big sister I never had.

Eleanor's PoV

It only had taken one glance to tell that Mary had probably gotten only a few hours of sleep in the past two weeks. She probably hasn't eaten much either. I remember the day when Stan told her that she was on AL and couldn't officially work the case of her dead witness, and she had run out, it didn't take a genius to figure out that something sparked something to go back to her kidnapping. She had been gone all day, and Marshall had arrived back at work late that night, making it apparent that he had been with her, helping her.

I glanced at her as I turned onto my street. Marshall couldn't help her right now. We might have an antagonistic friendship relationship, but regardless, it was a friendship, no matter how weird. I pulled into my driveway and opened the door to get out. When Mary didn't move, I came over to her side of the car and pulled her out gently. She followed me listlessly as we walked inside, and I sat her at the kitchen table. I was going to put something in that stomach of hers before I got her in bed. After going through the contents of the fridge, I found some leftover spaghetti from the night before. I threw it in the microwave and then I went to my bedroom and found a pair of pajamas for her to wear. I placed them and a pair for myself on the bed.

When I returned to the kitchen, her eyes were closed, but I could tell she wasn't asleep. I grabbed the food and placed it in front of her. The smell of the food in front of her made her open her eyes.

"You don't have to eat the whole thing, but you do need some food," I whispered.

She nodded and reached for the fork and brought it back to her mouth loaded with food. Satisfied, I turned back again and got ready for bed. When I exited the restroom, Mary was sitting on the corner of my bed, unsure of what to do. I placed her pajamas in her arms and nudged her towards the bathroom to change. She came out sluggishly several minutes later and I led her to the bed and tucked her in with a motherly affection I didn't think I would feel again.

I hesitated before asking softly, "Do you want me to stay?"

Mary nodded and I crawled into the bed and placed her head in my lap. Slowly, my fingers ran through her hair. I remember that my mother and my husband used to do this to put me to sleep when I couldn't fall asleep on my own. I grinned when she finally began to relax, and her breathing started to even. I leaned over to turn off the light and my alarm and continued to run my fingers through her hair for several more minutes before I too began to slip off into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you BuJyo, Caia, Kathiann, Roar526, JazzyJenn5, Kittyknighton, and Kay8abc, for your reviews for the past 2 chapters. Hopefully I can start updating this more frequently now that I'm unstuck. ;)_

The beautiful smell of bacon awoke me. Faint memories of the night before told me the kitchen was just down the hallway out of the bedroom. While the food smelled fantastic, I laid there, enjoying the comforting feel of the bed and a thin layer of sleep.

"Time to rise and shine, sleepyhead," Eleanor giggled.

Instantly my smile turned into a frown, and I put the other pillow over my head in order to block out her voice. "Go away!" I whined.

"I know as well as you do that you smell the food, and I know you're hungry." My stomach didn't argue with her. "Besides Stan will be here in fifteen for some food himself. So time to get up."

I groaned, but didn't move. I heard her footsteps and tensed, waiting to know what she'll do. A minute passed and I relaxed. Perhaps her footsteps were her leaving. Suddenly I felt myself roll over quickly, and I landed with a thud on the floor. I looked up and saw Eleanor's grinning face above me, and I growled.

"I told you to get up." She smirked.

I sat up slowly, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. When I opened them again, I noticed Eleanor's legs still standing next to me. I saw a chance for revenge, and decided to take advantage of it. I dived for her legs to tackle her and she went down with a scream of shock. I crawled up so I was the one above her head, and smirked.

"Just so you know, I like my sleep just as much as I like my food, if not more."

I laughed, and got up, and held out a hand for Eleanor. A smile was on her face and she shook her head at me.

"So where's my food?" I asked her.

"Maybe I won't give you any," she chuckled.

We walked into the kitchen and I couldn't help but stare. Several stacks of food were piled high. A plate was handed to me, and I was mesmerized. Forget saying sleep might be more liked than food. This was absolutely beautiful. Almost unconsciously I piled some of this food onto my plate.

I was forced out of my short obsession of the food by Eleanor's voice. "In your condition, if you eat that much you'll make yourself sick."

I glared at her, "In my condition? Jesus, you make it sound like I'm handicapped or something."

She rolled her eyes, "So be it, just don't blame me when you go running off to the bathroom."

My food went down so fast, I was amazed when only a few minutes later my plate was almost empty. My stomach was definitely full, and a small cramp alerted me to the fact that I ate more than it could handle. I groaned, and Eleanor laughed.

"Told you. Don't go puking now. That's the worst way to waste food."

I glared menacingly towards her. "I know the best way how to waste food."

Her grin became confused. I grinned and flung what was left of my egg over easy at her, and it hit her right in the center of her face. She gasped as the yoke broke and fell slowly down her face. When the shock wore off, she grabbed one of her pancakes drenched in syrup and threw it at me. I ducked but the syrup caught some of my hair. It was now a food fight, now as she threw a 'punch'. Quickly chairs doors, tables, and the island were used to hide behind. At the island I grabbed a plate of food and a spatula and started flinging food from each of the sides of the island. I grinned every time I heard the sweet sound of Eleanor's growling when she was hit.

Suddenly, there was no sound from her. No food was flying from her direction. I peeked out behind my hiding place to the left and saw no one. I turned to the left to get several pieces of bacon to the face. I grabbed my ammo, and tossed hard and fast to force her away from me.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!?" Stan yelled.

I poked my head up above the island guiltily and noticed the new state of the kitchen Pancakes were stuck to the ceiling and the walls and everything else was coated with toast. The syrup... well don't expect me to describe it. Eleanor wasn't looking much better, and I was absolutely positive I was the same.

"Christ, I'd expect this out of five year olds, not two grown women," he shook his head.

Eleanor and I looked up and saw one of the pancakes stuck to the ceiling, slowly become unstuck.

"Um, Stan," Eleanor said. "You might want to move."

He looked up just in time to see the pancake unstick and land on his face. We began to laugh, hard and loud as Stan's face reddened from anger. He ripped the pancake off his face and turned to go back outside, absolutely furious, and we laughed harder. It felt so good to laugh. It wasn't something I did often, and clearly not enough. The few times I do laugh, it's with Marshall. I looked at Eleanor and I could see Stan outside using the hose to clean the syrup off his head.

It was at this moment I realized something. While Marshall can't really stop being my friend, even with what happened two weeks ago, I realized that Marshall isn't my only friend anymore. I might not ever be as close to Eleanor or Stan as I was with Marshall, but we are past the line of just coworkers now. We are friends.

* * *

Two hours later, the kitchen was squared away and both of us women were completely cleaned up. I was leaning against the counter of the island with my eyes closed when I heard a plop in front of me. I opened my eyes to so a manila folder just in between my arms.

Slowly, I opened it and saw Witness Security Program typed across the top. I looked sharply at Stan.

"You're wanting me to work now?"

"Oh course not," Stan huffed, now much more calm after the pancake incident. Once the shock had worn off, he laughed at both Eleanor's and my appearances. "I can take one look at you and say you're not ready. This one is for you when you think you're ready to take it."

I looked at the person in this folder and sighed. 55 year old Betty Prodre had lived with her husband, and now lives alone in Humboldt, Arizona in the mountains off Poland Junction. Her family, including her husband, was murdered at a family get together in Phoenix, while she was in the bathroom. She poked her head out, saw the guys and climbed out the bathroom window.

I looked back up at Stan. "Okay, so what do I need to do? You've made it apparent that this isn't a rush."

"The witness refuses to leave her home."

I interrupted him, "Then why even bother with this BS? Let her get herself killed."

"She's desperate for protection, but doesn't want to leave. This woman was a witness to a gang hit on her son, Jared, for reasons unknown. This gang happens to be one of the most dangerous gangs near the west coast. If it wasn't for that very reason, I wouldn't let her in the program. Arizona inspectors are currently babysitting her. There isn't much of a risk as her house is far off the road into the mountains, but no one is willing to take that chance."

"So why don't you send Marshall?"

He sighed. "Because I want at least one of my inspectors. One new one I can handle. Two, however, I wouldn't wish on anyone. This will be easy for you until you gain your bearings completely, and you can treat it like a working vacation."

"Alright," I pushed myself away from the island. "I'll do it. I'll head out before the end of the week."

I left the room and went in search of some Ibuprofen. Good lord, I had a headache.

_A/N: I should have stopped it right after Stan broke up the food fight, but the rest of it needed to come out and it's too small to be its own chapter. I hope you all liked it, and I'm terribly sorry for the really long wait. In case you didn't know, I do have internet on a phone now so I can email my friend to post the chapter, no more waiting a week (I hope)!_


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